Burn the Heart
by Keleficent
Summary: Sherlock had refused to back down, and Moriarty carried out his threat: he had burned his heart. He also cut his heart, beat his heart, starved his heart. For three days, he tortured Sherlock's heart nearly to death. Now his heart was fighting for his life.


Moriarty said he would burn the heart out of Sherlock. He had been too worried about stopping his best friend from being blown to pieces to let the meaning of Moriarty's words sink in. He thought it was his poetic way of saying he'll torture Sherlock before killing him or something boring like that. He had been half right.

Sherlock refused to back down, and Moriarty carried out his threat: he had burned his heart. He also cut his heart, beat his heart, starved his heart. For three days, he tortured Sherlock's heart nearly to death. Now his heart was fighting for his life.

His heart.

John Watson.

At times like this, Sherlock hated his near-perfect memory. He wished he could forget the three grueling days of worrying for his missing friend. He wished he could forget finally finding him battered and beaten. He wished he could forget the message left in John's own blood: I WARNED YOU, SHERLOCK.

Lestrade insisted he go home. He tried to assure him that he had John's hospital room guarded. Sherlock curtly responded by telling Lestrade he didn't give a damn if the whole British army was stationed outside John's door; he would not leave his side.

So, by John's side, Sherlock Holmes stayed. Thankfully for Sherlock, a blanket covered most of his injuries. He could barely stand to look at the ones on his face and arms. He pictured what caused every cut, bruise, and burn despite him begging his mind to turn off so he didn't have to think about what John went through. But he couldn't turn off his mind, and since meeting John, he couldn't turn off his feelings either.

Sherlock held John's hand. His other hand oscillated not sure what physical contact was appropriate. He was already afraid that the hand holding was crossing a line. Even when his friend was hurt, Sherlock couldn't stop trying to keep his mind a logical and impartial machine. But the machine wasn't functioning properly. He felt lost, confused, and worst of all, helpless.

Seeing John, strong, dependable John, looking so small and frail was a cruel reminder that he did in fact have a heart because it was breaking at the sight. Since his brain didn't want to work at the moment, maybe he should try to let his heart guide his actions like a normal person does. Like John does.

"John…" Sherlock knew John couldn't hear him, but he had to do something. He was willing to try anything. "The doctors keep telling me that your chances aren't good. They're morons. They don't know you like I do. They don't know how strong you are. How no matter what crazy shenanigans I get you into, you always come back to me."

"You have to come back to me. I can't live without you…your blog." Sherlock couldn't live without seeing John's smile again, hearing John's laugh again, looking into John's eyes again.

Sherlock gave up his indecision about what to do with his hand and placed it on John's forehead. Sherlock's words nor touch stirred him. Of course not. Sherlock knew that no amount of lovely words could heal John's wounds. But his mind did not allow him to consider what he will do if he loses John.

"I need you, Dr. Watson." He moved closer to John…so close that their faces almost touched. "Please don't leave me, John."

He softly put his lips on John's forehead no longer caring what was proper. He needed to tell John, if only subconsciously, how much he meant to him, how much he loved him. More than anyone else in the world.

"Sherlock…"

Sherlock jerked his head back up carefully watching John's mouth to make sure he didn't imagine hearing John's voice for the first time in days.

"Sherlock…"

"John…" Sherlock's jaw grew sore from his giant grin, probably sore because it not used to being in a smiling position as of late.

"Sherlock, there were five men. I don't know where they took me, but I heard planes. I may have been near an airport…"

"John, stop." It sounded like it pained his friend to speak. He wakes up from a coma and what does he do? Try to help Sherlock with the case. No matter what, he always put Sherlock first. He hated John for it. He loved John for it.

"But, Sherlock…"

"Shh…" Sherlock brushed his fingers through John's hair. "I swear on my life Moriarty and any other man who laid a hand on you will pay dearly for what they've done."

Sherlock had every intention of staying on Moriarty's trail, but protecting and taking care of John was his first priority. Getting revenge against him for hurting John was a close second. Vengeance would have to wait. He needed to have John by his side both to help him take down Moriarty and so Sherlock can keep an eye on him and protect him. Right now though, John needed his rest.

"Just sleep, John." He looked like he still wanted to fight Sherlock on this. He knew the one way he could get John to do what he wanted. "Please, for me?"

Even if John won't take care of himself, he would do anything for Sherlock. With no further prompting, he drifted back off to sleep to Sherlock stroking his hair.

Sherlock let the sound of the heart monitor wash over him. It was grating, high-pitched, and the most beautiful sound in the world.

His heart was alive and strong.


End file.
